Numb
by bonnjie
Summary: NickRita oneshot. Rita gives birth to her firstborn child, but all is not right.


Some women say birth is one of the most painful things a female can put herself through.   
Others say that birth is a miraculous event, a celebration of new life.  
These words rang through Rita Skeeters head, limp blonde hair sticking to her sweat-covered head as she was injected with painkillers.

"They didn't help," she screamed to the midwife, "they don't fucking work!"  
She knew the midwife was talking, but the blood rushing through her ears was blocking out any sound, she was far away, they were all far away and all she could do was sit, scream and hope to God, Buddha and every other deity on the face of the earth that everything was going alright. Someone was squeezing her hand, telling her to keep pushing. Who was it? Opening her eyes, she thought she saw Mother, but her eyes cleared and the midwife came into view. She knew this whole thing was too good to be true, something had to happen. Karma always came back and bit her on the arse. She could see i _him_ /i standing in the corner, and found herself hoping that their baby would have gorgeous brown hair, just like him.

i _"Miiike! Are you home?"  
She wandered around, holding the small slip of paper in her hand as if it were her ticket into heaven. There he was, lying on the floor with a bourbon bottle next to him. She sure did know how to pick them.  
"Mike, are you awake?"  
No response. She crouched down, prodding him gently in the back.  
"Mike, its important."  
Still nothing. Standing up, she kicked him as hard as she could, knowing that she was going to ruin her only pair of pink heels but not caring, just as long as it hurt him. She could do it on her own, she didn't need him. Throwing the piece of paper to the ground, she found tears falling down her cheeks as she muttered.  
"I'm bloody pregnant you prat."  
She stormed off, slamming the door and running off to the park by their flat, sitting down in a secluded area and letting the tears fall down her cheeks. She was all alone. /i _

Someone was telling her to push, she felt as if she was on fire in a crowded room and nobody was trying to help her. Squeezing on the hand, she pushed with all her might, tears streaming down her red cheeks. The pain was excruicating, she was positive she was dying and none of these people were helping. He took a step forward, all she wanted was for him to take her hand and reassure her, but instead he was standing in the corner looking like a lost deer. She put her head back, looking up to the sky blue roof and letting out another scream, pushing as hair as her body would allow her to and screaming at the top of her lungs. She was on fire, she knew it. The last thing she saw before passing out into unconsciousness was Mike stepping forward and taking her hand.

i _Rita sat on the couch, maternity dress making her feel like a fat old woman.   
"Nick, I can't see my feet anymore."  
"I'm sure thats perfectly normal."  
She laughed, taking a sip of her water and leaning back on the couch. He smiled, putting his hand on hers and watching as she rested her cup of water on her stomach.  
"You know, I've always wanted to do that."  
He grinned, she seemed so happy about the whole thing. Barring the fact that the father of her child was an alcoholic bastard who Nick was sure would leave her in a year or so. Not that he would tell her that, he just wanted her to be happy.  
"Have you thought of a name?"  
She nodded, a strand of blonde hair falling out of her ponytail. The smile on her face grew, and she replied merrily.  
"Audrey or Eve for a girl and Theo or...Nick for a boy."  
He laughed, she couldn't possibly be naming her firstborn son after him! Or could she? He saw the blush growing on her face, and realised she was indeed going to name her firstborn after him. With a grin, he replied.  
"I definitely like Nick for a boy."  
"I thought you would." /i  
_

She was numb. Standing in the rain looking at the small gravestone, watching the dirt slowly being piled over the small white coffin in the ground. She was alone, there was no grieving partner standing beside her, no grandparents mourning the loss of a granddaughter with the beginnings of blonde hair and periwinkle blue eyes. Just a numb mother standing in the pissing rain without an umbrella listening to the pastor. She was still holding the flowers, those little bluebells that she had picked while walking through the hospital garden and just had to pick. She couldn't distinguishe between the raindrops and the tears, watching the pastor talk to her about the daughter she would never know. The daughter who would never live to meet Nick, or curse her father into oblivion. The daughter whose small hands would never reach for her mothers. She looked up at the tombstone, fighting the urge to pull the coffin out of the ground and try revive the small body that had never taken a breath of air. The last shovels of dirt filled the muddy hole, and the priest left her alone with her thoughts. Sitting down on the ground, not caring about her clothing, she placed the bluebells on the mound of dirt, lying over the freshly-placed dirt and letting herself sob, and scream, and cry. She didn't notice the transparent figure standing behind her, tears falling down his silver cheeks as he silently watched over her, watching as she said goodbye to her only daughter.


End file.
